by Matt Fazio
Drew gazed out across the empty playground for several seconds. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He had taken so many risks – approaching the most popular girl in school, going to The Shack, throwing a snowball at an eighth-grader, talking to Tommy’s scary older brother – and now, after all this time, he had gotten nowhere. What was once a promising adventure turned out to be nothing but dead ends.
Zobby and Trevor walked home toward their houses while Drew and Jeff headed in the other direction.
“Man, I’m sorry about all that,” said Jeff, after the boys passed the closed bridge.
“Thanks,” said Drew. “I just wanted to find out who drew the picture.”
“Well, I’d be glad it wasn’t that kid,” said Jeff. “Seriously, he’s crazy.”
Drew smiled. Jeff had a good point. And truthfully, underneath all the confusion, Drew did feel a little relieved that his beloved picture wasn’t drawn by Huddy.
****
On Thursday, Mrs. Steinbeck gave the students a few minutes to review notes and ask questions before the final test. Drew leafed through his book, half-heartedly reviewing the information. Along with the picture, he realized he would also miss the book itself – the familiar smell of the worn pages, the distinct rustling sound they made as they glided through his fingers, and even the handwritten names inside the front cover. He couldn’t believe he only had it for one more day.
At lunch, Tommy took his normal seat as if he hadn’t ditched Drew and Jeff yesterday. He popped a tater tot into his mouth and casually struck up a conversation about summer activities.
Jonathan passed by and said, “Surprised to see you here today, Daley. I figured you woulda been crippled by Huddy.” He set his lunch down on the table. “Seriously, did that really happen? Did you wanna talk to a scary kid who’s two years older and twice your size about some stupid drawing?”
“Lay off, man,” said Jeff.
“I got this,” said Drew. He turned to Jonathan and said, “Yeah, I did talk to Huddy about a drawing. And guess what? Huddy likes art, too. I doubt you’d make fun of him – or, if you want, you can go tell him how stupid art is. Want me to arrange a meeting for you?”
After a moment of stunned silence, Tommy yelled “Mic drop!” and everyone at the table roared a collective “Ohhh!” The clamor rippled through the cafeteria, and Jonathan was sent scurrying away by the sweeping chorus of jeers.
Although Jonathan was gone, Drew still felt like stepping away from the table himself.
“I’m gonna grab another chocolate milk,” he said.
When he got in line, someone asked, “Hey, what was all that about?”
Drew turned around and saw Skylar. “Huh? What was what about?”
“All the yelling.”
“Oh, uh, that was nothing,” he said sheepishly.
Skylar playfully nudged his shoulder. “Come on, tell me.”
“Well, remember that drawing we talked about a long time ago?”
“The one in the science book?”
“Yeah. I thought I finally figured out who drew it. I had it down to two people, and one of them is this girl Stacey Janofsky – I guess some people called her ‘Red’ … You don’t happen to know her, do you?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I figured. She doesn’t live here anymore. Anyway, you’re not gonna believe this, but I thought it was Mike Hudock, you know, Huddy? Anyway, I found out he liked art, and I had crossed off everyone else, so I figured it was him. Then when I talked to him about it he just said, ‘I would’ve remembered a picture like that,’ or something. Then he dumped everything out of my book bag and threw my science book, then Jonathan was making fun of me about it. I don’t know. It has to be Stacey, but I have no clue how I’ll ever talk to her. But anyway, that’s why everyone was yelling and stuff.”
Skylar responded, “That’s awful! I’m sorry he messed with you. Michael is such a jerk sometimes! But … you said he’s an artist?”
Hearing Skylar say Huddy’s real name sounded strange. It was like his nickname made him seem larger than life, while the name Michael showed that he was just a regular kid.
“Well, I don’t know if he’s an artist,” said Drew, “but I do know he likes to draw. He’s good, too. Probably not better than the person who drew the picture in the science book, though. They’re the best!”
“Wow. That’s surprising. A cool kid like him into drawing,” said Skylar, seeming to drift off for a second. “But hey, I’m gonna get back. Bye, Drew.”
Even though it was a Melia’s Thursday, Drew doubted the boys would make the trip to the convenience store. The three of them hadn’t talked about the Melia’s situation, but they all knew that things had changed. Not even Tommy brought up wanting to go back.
At their lockers at the end of the day, Jeff explained that Zane’s kindergarten graduation was today and he would be staying after school for that. So it was just Drew and Tommy walking home together.
“Look!” Tommy exclaimed. “The bridge isn’t closed anymore. We can walk right across now. We’ll get home twice as fast.”
But when the boys were a step away from the bridge, Drew slowed down. He felt like his feet were stuck in the pavement.
“I don’t think I wanna go this way,” he said.
Tommy looked at him blankly.
“It’s just we walked the other way the entire year, and I think I’m gonna keep doing that.” He paused for a moment and said, “Come with me, man.”
“No,” said Tommy. “It makes no sense. We’ll get home faster by the bridge. It’s like a shortcut.”
Drew shrugged. “I know, man, but I’m still just gonna go the long way.”
“Whatever.”
Tommy didn’t seem to have the faintest idea what Drew was talking about. They said their goodbyes, and Drew took the long way home.
****
As Drew approached Skylar’s house, she and a woman who appeared to be her mom were sitting on the front porch. Drew waved and gave a subtle head nod to Skylar as he passed.
“Hey, Drew,” she yelled.
“Who’s that?” Drew heard the woman say.
“That’s Drew. He goes to my school,” said Skylar. She shifted her attention to Drew. “Hey, come meet my mom.”
“I was just going to get Skylar and me some lemonade. Would you like to stop for a few minutes?” Mrs. Jansen asked.
“Um, sure, thanks.”
“Let’s wait inside. It’s way too hot out here,” said Skylar.
They walked inside and Mrs. Jansen went into the kitchen to get the lemonade.
When Drew walked into the house, he felt a similar sensation to when he would open his science book to page 139. The living room wall was covered with framed artwork. To the left was a picture of a moonlit forest, drawn with dark shades of blue, purple, and green pastel. On the opposite wall was an illustration of the Jansens’ front porch, sketched in pencil. With a triumphant rush of joy, Drew put the pieces together.
“These are … yours.”
Before Skylar could respond, her mom returned from the kitchen.
“Oh, they are all hers,” she said, handing Skylar and Drew each a glass. “But she hardly draws anything anymore. I can’t even get her to take art class, can you believe that? She has real talent – much more than her father and I ever had.”
“Mom, stop.”
“I’m serious. Aren’t these good, Drew?”
“They’re unbelievable.”
He turned to Skylar, who took a swig of lemonade and looked away.
“Thank you for the drink, Mrs. Jansen. But I have to get home now.”
“Thank you for stopping, Drew. You’re welcome here any time.”
Skylar silently walked Drew out to the front porch.
“Well, I have to get going, bye,” said Drew, hurrying down the sidewalk.
“Drew, wait.”
He turned around and waited for her to continue. She opened her mouth but didn
’t say anything.
Finally, Drew asked the question he needed to ask. “The picture in the science book. It was you all along, wasn’t it?”
Skylar hesitated. Clasping her hands behind her back and looking down at the ground, she said, “Yes. But you have to understand …”
“Understand what?”
“I dunno. When you asked me right away, I didn’t know you. I didn’t know you’d make it like your mission or whatever to find the person who drew the picture.”
“Why didn’t you tell me after we became friends?” Drew asked.
“I dunno.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” said Drew.
Skylar didn’t respond. She was normally composed, but now she seemed unnerved.
Drew paused and realized he had a more important question to ask her: “Why do you think I love the picture so much?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve shown it to a bunch of people, and none of them cared about it as much as I do. Something about it is special, but I can’t figure out what.”
“I dunno,” said Skylar. “It’s just a picture.”
“Not to me. And I know it’s special to you, too. When I first mentioned it to you, your eyes lit up. Why?”
“Drew, I … I guess because it’s something simple. Or maybe it took my mind off science class. That’s probably why. But I have no idea why you like it so much.”
Drew paused. “Okay,” he said finally. He realized she was right. She had drawn the picture, but she wasn’t responsible for Drew’s reaction to it.
Drew turned toward the street but stopped again. “One other question. Why don’t you draw anymore? You’re really good.”
“No, my parents are the only ones who think I’m good. I do it for fun or whatever. It’s no big deal.”
“Well, I’m telling you, you are good. Do you know what I was thinking about when I walked by your house this afternoon?”
Skylar shook her head side to side.
“I was thinking about what I should do with my science book tomorrow. I have to hand it in, and I might never see that picture again. It meant a lot to me this year. I still don’t know why, but I know it’s my favorite picture. And tomorrow it’ll be gone. I just … I don’t get why you wouldn’t wanna keep taking art and making more pictures.”
Skylar shrugged and slightly tilted her head. “All my friends take study hall. So I just decided to do that instead. That’s all.”
“That doesn’t even make sense. I can tell by the pictures in there that you like doing it.”
Skylar blankly stared at Drew. She seemed to be growing more and more uncomfortable.
“Uh, it’s fine, never mind,” said Drew. “But I do have to go.”
“All right.”
Before Drew got to the curb, he turned around. Skylar was still on the porch. Drew thought for a moment and said, “I’m glad it was you.”
Skylar smiled and went back inside.
****
It was officially the last day of fifth grade. Drew couldn’t believe he had finally found his Mystery Artist.
For the most part, the last day of school was a breeze. The teachers allowed the students to play games and sign each other’s yearbooks. Of course, Mrs. Steinbeck still conducted a regular class, teaching a lesson from the last chapter of the book and preparing the students for some of the topics that would be covered next year.
Even though he knew she was a good teacher, Drew was relieved to get out of Mrs. Steinbeck’s class altogether. He hated being nervous every time she called his name.
“Mr. Daley.”
“Huh? Yes?”
“Your book, Mr. Daley.”
He had decided to hand in the book without making a copy or ripping out page 139. Finding the artist made it a lot easier for him to give up the picture he loved. He found a great deal of happiness in it, and he hoped the book’s future owner would, too.
As he extended the book toward Mrs. Steinbeck, he hesitated and, for a brief second, second-guessed his decision. But she took the book, opened to the inside cover to verify the book identification number, and nodded. It was over.
****
At lunch, Drew looked for Skylar, but she wasn’t at her normal table.
“Everybody signed up for study hall, right?” Tommy asked the group.
“Yeah,” said Trevor. “I need all the extra studying I can get.”
“Me too,” added Jeff.
“I signed up for art,” said Drew.
“Are you serious …”
Before Tommy could finish his insult, Drew snapped back, “Yeah, I am serious. I like art. I like to draw. And guess what, so does Huddy, even if he won’t admit it. And Skylar likes it, too. But even if no one else liked it, I still would. So I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. ‘Cause it’s not stupid to me.”
Tommy was stunned. In fact, all the boys were, including Drew himself. A few seconds later, Trevor broke the tension by bringing up a water park his family planned to visit next week, and the boys didn’t rehash the art-versus-study hall discussion. Drew had officially closed that debate.
****
Mr. Sawyer tried to do a bit of teaching, but he knew as well as the students did that it was time for summer break to begin. He went around the room and asked the students to name their favorite thing about the class. Many kids talked about multicultural week. A few others, including Drew and Jeff, talked about their field trip to the museum.
When all the students had answered, Abigail raised her hand and asked Mr. Sawyer what his favorite moment was.
“Well, you know I’m proud of all of you for the hard work you did this year. But there is one presentation that sticks out to me. At the beginning of the year, you had to talk about a role model of yours, remember?”
Everyone nodded.
“And Drew talked about the runner who picked up a flower holder the wind had blown over. More than the awards or accolades, the money or appreciation, I love the idea of someone doing something regardless of how it will be perceived. Or, better yet, even if it might never be seen at all. Those things we do when no one is watching – that’s how we know who we are.”
Mr. Sawyer paused for a moment. Then he continued:
“A lot of things will change when you get to middle school next year. Things like peer pressure may play a bigger role. But remember to always be yourself, no matter who’s watching. Now, I know you’ve heard this before and you’ll hear it again, but remember: it doesn’t matter what others think they see. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
“You mean that a lot of things around us will change, but we shouldn’t change, right?” said Abigail.
“Well,” said Mr. Sawyer, “no, you will change. That’s inevitable. I’m certainly not saying you should live in the past. What I’m saying is there are some things you should leave in the past, and some things you should keep forever. Don’t let the world change you completely. We’ve all got a youthful spirit within us. Make sure you never lose yours. Don’t forget what it’s like to just be a kid.”
The final bell of the school year rang as he finished his sentence.
“Have a good summer. And don’t forget to visit me next year. Just because you’re big middle schoolers now doesn’t mean you’re too cool for me.”
Every student was up and out of the room before Drew got up from his seat.
“Did you mean all that?” he asked Mr. Sawyer.
“You know I did, Drew. Sometimes people make choices for the wrong reasons. You’re a really good kid. Trust your instincts. And always remember to be prepared for a presentation,” he joked, referencing the infamous “States” project.
Drew laughed. “Yeah. Thanks for everything, Mr. Sawyer.”
He walked out into the hallway, where Jeff and Tommy were waiting for him.
“Hey, man, Roey said he’s going to play some street hockey. You in?” Tommy asked.
“Probably not today.”
&nbs
p; “Come on, man, it’s summer now!”
“No, but thanks, though.”
“You sure you can’t go either, Jeff?” Tommy asked.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Suit yourselves. I’m goin’ straight to Roey’s house. See you at our game tomorrow.”
****
With empty book bags on their backs, Drew and Jeff started home. When they got to the bridge, Drew explained to Jeff that he still wanted to take the long way home. To his surprise, Jeff said he would join him. They walked down and around the bridge, the way they had done nearly the entire school year.
“Did you understand what Mr. Sawyer meant?” Jeff asked. “He was talking about holding on to things. Do you think that means you should’ve held on to that picture?”
“I don’t think so. I think I just need to remember how it made me feel, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” said Jeff. “Mr. Sawyer’s probably right. A lot of stuff will probably change in middle school. Some things already started changing, I think.”
“Drew!” Skylar was hurrying down her sidewalk.
“Hey, I didn’t think you’d be walking this way,” she said, standing in front of him. “You know, because that bridge is open. But I’m glad you did …”
Taking his cue, Jeff said, “I gotta get home. I’ll catch up with you later.”
The boys exchanged a subtle wink, and Jeff headed down the road.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Skylar continued. “I know I said it yesterday, but I want you to know that I really am.”
“Don’t be,” said Drew. “I should be thanking you for drawing the picture.”
Skylar smiled. “Did you hand in your science book today?”
“Yeah, ‘fraid so.”
“Did you rip the drawing out, take a picture of it, anything?”
“No, nothing. I left it there and handed it in. Maybe someone will like it as much as I did,” said Drew, happy with his decision.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Skylar replied. She pulled a large notepad out of her book bag, opened it, and carefully tore out the first sheet.
“I thought maybe you’d like this,” she said, handing the sheet to Drew. “I worked on it all last night, and I finished it today during lunch.”
In Drew’s hands was a larger, more detailed version of the ocean scene drawing. Drew stared into it, and it had an even stronger effect on him than the picture in the book had. An old memory seemed to arise from a shadowed corner in his mind. He remembered being at the beach with his parents when he was four years old. He recognized it as the same memory captured in the photo album his mom had shown him.